Much of my life would send my traditional Catholic conservative parents in such a shock that they would think that they lost their daughter to drugs or demons or both. Exorcism anyone?
Fuck that. For the first time in my life, after not seeing her for six months, I responded to her as I wanted to, as uninhibited adult me. I stood up to her consistently, using my mind, backed by the space these months have given me. As best as I could, I addressed and challenged the little remarks and looks, the stories and reactions that have been her tactical modes of bullying or imposing her values on me since I was little.
I’m proud of myself but I’m feeling the pains of letting her role in my life go. She said she felt it too between her tears and hiccups of telling me I’ve changed and she doesn’t know me anymore and I don’t know what love is and I never knew her and I’m wrong for being angry at my father and I’m ungrateful and so on. That hurt me a lot. She told me her loyalty is with my father, not me, not my brothers any more. I guess I understand.
I never felt like she was such a child, so blind or closed-minded as I have in these past few days. I fear that she and I will never be as close as we once were. But were we to be as we once were, I would have to live based on more lies and self oppression. Regression. When we were so close I would flap around the deep-end of their pool of tradition and didn’t have the courage or space or time or knowledge or experience to get myself out. If our relationship was close when we both were choking together, snagged on nets in murky but warm water, then the previous closeness of our relationship is something I will choose to let go. I’m not a child anymore. And maybe that’s the difference between us.
It hurts me that I can’t rescue her. But she says things have changed.